Текст оригинала на английском языке
Being a gaoler I'm supposed To be a hard-boiled guy; Yet never prison walls enclosed A kinder soul than I: Passing my charges precious pills To end their ills. And if in gentle sleep they die, And pass to pleasant peace, No one suspects that it is I Who gave them their release: No matter what the Doctor thinks, The Warden winks. A lifer's is a fearful fate; It wrings the heart of me. And what a saving to the State A sudden death must be! Doomed men should have the legal right To end their plight. And so my veronel they take, And bid goodbye to pain; And sleep, and never, never wake To living hell again: Oh call me curst or call me blest,-- I give them rest.
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